Impulses
by girlinterrupted12
Summary: What happens when the fastest man alive cannot save the one he loves? Barry Allen is stricken with guilt after his long term boyfriend is nearly beaten to death. Can they have a normal relationship? What happens when Blaine finds out who he really is? Rated R for M/M.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: This story contains graphic violence, graphic sexual scene, kinks, character death, coarse language, sexually suggestive themes, sexual situations, homosexuality, bisexuality, mentions of rape, mental instability and should not be read by anyone under 18 years old. Please read with caution. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee/ The Flash. **

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><p><em>Impulses<em>

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><p>"<em>No<em>," He grunted, pushing their prying hands away only to have them shoved right back in his face. Cupping his cracked ribs, he tried not to pay attention to that because there were more important things going on. Loud sirens blared in the fuzzy background and hoards of people dressed in blue swarmed the scene; some of these were shouting, some screaming, but all he could do was focus on trying to stay awake, at least for a few moments. Before he could suck in a deep breath, he coughed violently, sputtering out thick chunks of blood.

"Sir, we need to get you to the hospital right now," A woman insisted, and Barry nearly bit her hand off.

"There's no time," He gritted out. Everything fucking hurt, but he knew it was temporary. In a matter of minutes he'd be healed: the skin would mend and the broken ribs would be repaired—good as new. "He's in the next room_, get to him—get to him first_!" He barked frantically.

"We are doing the best we can…"

Barry stopped listening, his vision blurred and suddenly he felt very faint. All he could see were black wild curls, hazel green eyes and a smile that could cure fucking cancer. It was horrific watching them beat his lover with baseball bats because of _him_—because of _who_ he was. With one last surge of adrenaline he whipped past the paramedic, time slaw down for him, the people were frozen in motion: faces and limbs strained in one gesture. He reached the other room in seconds, nearly crumpling when he saw Blaine tied to a chair. His fingernails had been torn off completely, to go along with the grotesque bruises on his face that left him nearly unrecognizable. What really slit his heart open was that they had managed to smash Blaine's left kneecap so much that the bone stuck out, breaking through the flesh and bleeding profusely. In an instant he untied Blaine, cradling his body to his chest, sobbing loudly. The men who did this lay in a pool of their own blood.

_Good riddance_, Barry thought vengefully.

Brushing a few stray curls away from Blaine's face, he kissed his forehead. There was no time, he had to leave now or else he'd be caught. Giving his love one last fleeting look he took off tearing through the air until there was nothing left but a gust of wind.

***8***

**9 months earlier…**

_Blue should be illegal on him_, Barry thought to himself sliding the end of a black ink pen into his mouth. To get a better look he angled his head a little to check out the uniform, and from this distance he could tell that it was dry cleaned, without a winkle on it and that it stretched over his taut body like it was designed specifically for him. The lab notes sitting in front of him momentarily forgotten, he continued to stare appreciatively at the man across the room who, in the meantime, was speaking privately to Detective Joe West. There was something so entrancing about Mr. Anderson that left Barry nearly salivating after him like some lost puppy. Despite his ever present dapper attitude and behaviour, he was the very definition of what every cop should be. It was obvious Mr. Anderson had a passion for his job, because he was the first one at the office and the last one to leave, regardless of how tedious the paperwork was. _That_ was something Barry found incredibly attractive considering he was the exact same way. Of course, the rest of the officers treated him like the lowly assistant police forensic investigator that he was, with an awkward sense of humor and an even more stroppy relationship with Detective Joe West, who was _sorta—kinda_ his adoptive father. Throughout his college years he had been roped into his studies, neglecting men in general in order to get good grades and remain on the honor roll. There were occasionally good looking guys that would catch his eye and maybe, if felt like it, he would indulge in trashy one-night stands or call up a fuck buddy, but he had never had a _real _relationship. In his desperation to get Mr. Anderson to at least acknowledge his existence, he ended up resorting to cheesy jokes and one-liners that fell on deaf ears.

Sighing dejectedly, he wished for the fifteenth time that day that the heavens would open up and God would make him somehow irresistible to his crush. Fat chance in hell that was happening -but still, a man can dream, can't he?

"Hello, earth to Barry?"

A set of caramel skin fingers snapped insistently before his vision and reluctantly turned away. "What?"

"You've been staring at Mr. Anderson's ass for fifteen minutes," said Iris bemused. "He's hot but, seriously, you are starting to come off as creepy."

"I'm not creepy," Barry muttered. "And I wasn't staring at his ass."

"Please, you can't fool me. I'm your best friend and _sister-from-another-mother_. We practically share a brain," Iris deadpanned. "Look over my newspaper article, will you? I need you to edit it before I hand it in,"

"Can't you see I'm at work?" asked Barry, snatching the paper out of her hands. "I do actually have important lifesaving things to be doing right now,"

"Really, because I doubt staring at Mr. Anderson's ass is going to miraculously start uncovering murders for you," She smirked, tossing her black hair over her shoulder. "I'll pick it up tomorrow, I'm off to class," she peeked him on the cheek before grabbing her jacket and walking out of the room.

"I hate you," grumbled Barry. "By the way, you owe me a cup of coffee for this!" he called after her. Placing her newspaper article on the table he went back to looking over his lab notes and writing his observations down. It was going to be a long night; with three unsolved murders and the entire town in an uproar about the particle accelerator at S.T.A.R Labs that was about to go off tonight at midnight. Once he was sure he finished everything, he kept sneaking glances over at Mr. Anderson, who was done speaking to Detective Joe and was back in his office, deep in his own paper work. Several hours passed as he worked diligently, while cops came in and out of the station and people left to go home. Barry always lost track of time when he got into the zone; truthfully, he loved chemistry and biology, forensic science just happened to be tip of the iceberg for him. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly nerdy he tended to rant and rave about complex molecules or periodic table compounds that made other people cringe because to them he wasn't even speaking English. He was well aware that half of the people on the police force were coming from high school and that maybe a handful of them had any sort of college education but still, they could at least _pretend_ they knew what he was talking about.

Checking the time, he fumbled, trying to shove all of his paper work into his messenger bag; it was almost time for the presentation at S.T.A.R Labs and he wasn't going to miss a thing. Shrugging on his coat, he grabbed the rest of his things, shoving whatever he needed into his pockets. For a moment he felt eyes on him, and when he looked up, he caught Mr. Anderson gazing at him only to quickly look away, a faint blush adorning his cheeks.

_That's new_, he thought to himself, while wondering if he would be completely out of line if he asked Mr. Anderson to join him. The worst he could say is no, and it wasn't like he had anything to lose just by asking. Gathering some courage he strode over to Mr. Anderson's work desk with every intention of asking him on a date, only to stopped dead in his tracks. A tall, slender attractive man with pale skin and bright blue eyes whisked past him, heading straight to Mr. Anderson's desk. Barry watched dishearteningly as they embrace and the tall man kissed him on the cheek.

_Just my luck_, he pondered bitterly. _Of course the most beautiful man in the world has a fucking boyfriend. _Without wasting any more time lingering, he stormed out the building, gripping the strap on his messenger bag so tightly his knuckles turned white.

***8***


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: This story contains graphic violence, graphic sexual scene, kinks, character death, coarse language, sexually suggestive themes, sexual situations, homosexuality, bisexuality, mentions of rape, mental instability and should not be read by anyone under 18 years old. Please read with caution. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee/The Flash. **

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><p><em>Impulses<em>

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><p>Limping through the large corridors of the hospital he searched frantically for the ICU room number the nurse directed him to. He didn't have time to feel bad for the way he shouted in her face, demanding to know which room Blaine Anderson was in. Cisco and Caitlin had tried to prevent him from leaving S.T.A.R. Labs because of his poor condition but he was adamant about seeing Blaine no matter how horrible he looked. With several fractures in his right hand, busted knee cap that was slowly healing he dragged his batter body through the halls and was surprised he could move at all if it wasn't for the sheer willpower. Barry wince every few steps and breathed deeply to distract from the inevitable mental breakdown he knew was coming.<p>

_It's all my fault_ He thought. Everything had been his fault, telling Blaine to meet him somewhere secluded so that they could talk, only to be ambushed by a fucking gang. Their argument leading up to it and all those times Blaine had just need him to be there and he wasn't. Guilt shredding his insides and he knew that if he didn't see Blaine soon he'd crumple under the weight of it. Turning the corner sharply his heart seized in his chest when he noticed a small group of people standing outside Blaine's room. Several heads turn to glare at him, one in particularly got up from their position on a chair and strutted towards him, eyes sweeping over him indigently.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see Blaine," Barry said as evenly as possible, but there was no one who could get under his skin like the person standing in front of him.

Kurt snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as if he had said something very insulting. "You are about four hours too late,"

"I didn't know there was a time limit," Barry crackled, growing more impatient by each passing minute. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"He was waiting for you," Kurt cut in hotly. "For six hours he was waiting for you. Why couldn't you be on time for once? Why couldn't you have gotten there fast enough?" He demands fiercely.

"You think I don't ask myself that?" Barry said through gritted teeth. If he hadn't stopped to save that couple then Blaine wouldn't be lying in the hospital bed. If only he had been fast enough, if only he had been strong enough. Suddenly he felt like he was being choked by his emotions, swallowing thickly he tried to hold back the thick tears that threatened to overtake him. "I'm here now so get out of the way—"

"While they were beating the shit out of him where were you? Some protector you are," Kurt scorned. "Stay the fuck away from him. You are just as bad as the people who beat him up."

That stung.

It pricked his insides, exposing the ugly truth and over the past few months he hasn't been there for Blaine like he should have. Kurt's words cut at the open sore and he'll be _damned_ if he allowed it to affect him because right now he needs to be strong, Blaine needs him and he can't get caught up in all this bullshit drama.

"Get the fuck out of my way Hummel," He mutters dangerously low. Tired, beaten and bloody, it's been one hell of a night and all he wants to do is curl up beside Blaine in that hospital bed and try to figure out how they move forward from here.

"Not a cold chance in hell."

***8***

_**9 months earlier….**_

"Have you heard of this? They are starting to call him 'the red streak'," Joe threw the newspaper on his desk. "I thought I told you to stay out of trouble?"

Barry cringed.

Nearly six months in a coma, three months since he officially began working with S.T.A.R labs and four weeks of becoming the new superhero of Keystone City he could barely catch a break before his boss was breathing down his neck. It wasn't his fault that they decided to give him a new fancy nick-name. Nor was it his fault that some kids wanted to take pictures with him or his autograph. Joe could hardly begrudge him for being famous now could he?

"Yeah….sorry….?"

"_Sorry_?" Detective Joe glared at him. "This isn't a game Barry you've got to be more careful when you are out on the town people cannot figure out your identity go it? It's too dangerous."

"I know and it won't happen again I promise."

"It better not," Joe eyed him skeptically. "Be safe and don't be late for dinner tonight," he said as he walked out. Weekly dinners at the West residence was something he looked forward too. It was a night where they could all sit down, eat food, enjoy some crappy board games and just forget about life on the force or whatever horrible cases that they were working on. Barry stared down at the mountain of paper work in front of him dejectedly before throwing one last longing look at the clock. With his new found super powers he could finish everything in seconds, but with too many people around it was too risky. Instead he had to begin the long tedious battle of filing paperwork, filling out forms and generally writing up his data and diagnoses. During days like this one he wished that he had chosen a different profession. In his office he let his mind wander to the events that took place several months ago, including the time he spent in a coma and recovering from being struck by lightning. Imagine his surprised when he awoke surrounded by a group of strange scientist asking him a million questions a minute.

Indeed they were not your typically group of stuck up methodical scientist, for one thing they were all far too young. Despite the fact that Cisco Ramon looked like he was twelve, he was a brilliant mechanical engineering genius and the youngest member of the team of scientists. Another member that seemed quiet odd was Caitlin Snow, a highly intelligent bioengineering expert who believes she lost her fiancé, Ronnie Raymond during an explosion at S.T.A.R. Labs. To top it all off Dr. Harrison Wells who was the money behind the Particle Accelerator completed this complete trio and was the most level headed out of all of them. It was strange to admit but during the time he's spent with them they were all starting to grow on Barry and as _uncomfortable_ as it might be they were actually beginning to be his friends. With a deep, long, hopeless sigh he got back to work and managed to finish gathering evidence for several cases that were needed in court next week. It was after five when he realized he should probably start getting ready to go so that he could meet Joe and Iris for dinner.

Grabbing his coat off the chair he was just about ready to leave when his eyes landed on Mr. Anderson, just returning back from his break. The man looked stunning in his standard blue uniform carrying two large cups of coffees over to his desk. Barry felt the familiar longing bubbling up in his chest when stared at him. However, since he was almost positive Mr. Anderson had a boyfriend he didn't dare try to talk to him again.

_Why not?_ He questioned. _Just because Mr. Anderson has a boyfriend it doesn't mean they can't be friends right? _

It was stupid to believe that just because he had a significant other that he didn't need friends anymore.

Everybody needs friends.

Gripping the strap on his bag tightly, he prayed a silent prayer for courage as he walked over to Mr. Anderson's desk with a hopeful smile on his face, ready to make a new friend. When he arrived he cleared his throat and Mr. Anderson glanced up at his, eyes widening with surprise.

"Hello," Barry said in his most charming voice. "I know you are new to the office so I thought I'd introduce myself, my name is Barry Allen, I work in the forensic science department," He announced proudly.

When Blaine didn't respond or even offer his hand Barry continued. "So, where are you from?"

That question seemed to snap Mr. Anderson out of his trance and he immediately began to shift uncomfortably in his chair, his hazel-green eyes sweeping around the room anxiously.

"Westerville, Ohio."

"Oh, okay, that's great. I've never been but I've heard great things about Ohio….it's a large state…very….clean…not like Keystone I bet, I'm sure the sidewalks don't smell like pee like they do here…speaking of urine did you know that while butterflies sip nectar from flowers they also sip any urine that has collected on the flowers and leaves any chance they get. Urine is a butterfly's best source of vitamins," he rambled.

_Smooth Barry, very smooth_.

A painfully awkward silence followed after that. And Barry just stood there like a fish out of water floundering for words. When it seemed apparent that Mr. Anderson was no longer engaged in the conversation and looked a little agitated Barry took his cue. "Well, er, it was nice to meet you. I'll—_ugh_—just—go," turning around sharply; he misjudged how close he was to Mr. Anderson's desk and smashed his knee against it. Jostling the entire table sent the two large cups of coffee spilling all over the paper work and to Barry's embarrassment down Mr. Anderson's shirt and pants too.

"Shit!" Mr. Anderson cried jumping out of his seat as the coffee spilled onto the floor, pooling around his feet. Stammering out his apologies Barry tried to best to dab some napkins over the drench papers, but that did nothing but spread the coffee all over the desk.

"It's okay," Mr. Anderson said, staring down at his drench uniform and wet hands.

"Let me help you," Barry hastily grabbed a handful of napkins and jogged around the desk, only to slip on the coffee on the floor. In an effort to break his fall his hand flailed out smacking Mr. Anderson across the face, while simultaneously tripping him in the process. Barry fell hard on his ass and Mr. Anderson shortly after clutching his bleeding nose. Absolutely mortified Barry flushed, apologizing loudly by thrusting a bunch of damp napkins in front of Mr. Anderson's face.

"Don't touch me! Just leave me alone." Mr. Anderson barked, and with a sudden bust of adrenaline he knocked Barry's hands away, stood and stormed out of the room.

***8***


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: This story contains graphic violence, graphic sexual scene, kinks, character death, coarse language, sexually suggestive themes, sexual situations, homosexuality, bisexuality, mentions of rape, mental instability and should not be read by anyone under 18 years old. Please read with caution.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee/The Flash.**

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><p><em>Impulses<em>

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><p><em>And so it is like you said it would be….<em>

_**9 months earlier….**_

_Okay_, so Barry may have gone a little overboard with his apology. Huddling in the corner of his desk he very slowly ducked down wishing he could make his body disappear entirely. _God_, why did have to be so silly and go through with Iris' stupid suggestions? The officers began snickering and laughing at the display surrounding Mr. Anderson's desk, his sincerest apology had turned into the office spectacle. Overrun with humiliation from his last encounter with Mr. Anderson he had sought the advice of his best friend over dinner last night. In order to salvage whatever dignity he had left and to at least let Mr. Anderson know he was truly sorry, he decided to write an apology note, complete with a card and maybe a small gift inside. However, Iris promptly decided that it wasn't good enough and he needed to make it bigger, _better_. Whatever the hell that meant and soon he was at the dollar store buying balloons, confetti, several cards pleading forgiveness and a large cake. That morning when Barry and Iris walked into the office they were glad that Mr. Anderson had yet to arrive and hastily began to decorate his desk and chair, putting up various balloons, surrounding the table in confetti and placing small cards everywhere. Even though Barry could have finished the whole thing within seconds Iris insisted on helping, claiming it needed a woman's touch. As soon as it was finished Barry stared in absolute horror because it was all just _too much_. In a moment of blind panic he tried to tear some of the balloons down but Iris stood firmly in his way, even going so far as to put candles on the 'I'm Sorry' cake. Before she left she made him swear not to touch it or take any of it down, insisting that Mr. Anderson would love the gesture and that he should just trust her.

_My ass_, Barry thought angrily. Mr. Anderson would take one look at his desk and run for the hills screaming. The whole thing would turn into a nightmare. _God, why did I listen to her in the first place?_ _I mean seriously confetti why did Mr. Anderson need confetti!?_Whipping out his cell phone Barry quickly dialed Iris, impatiently waiting for her to pick up.

"Did you get your boxers stuck in your zipper again?" Iris asked as a way of greeting.

Barry flushed. "I told you to never speak of that—" He started sputtering then huffed. "No, I did not."

"Then what's up cupcake? Did your dreamboat arrive yet?"

"Stop calling him—never mind—this was the stupidest thing I've ever done!" Barry stammered, forcing the words through gritted teeth. More and more people were coming into the office staring at Mr. Anderson's desk curiously. "People are looking at all the decorations and I'm pretty sure your Dad is trying to laser me with his eyes,"

"So….?"

"So," Barry hissed. "I should just take the whole thing down. Who needs sorry balloons, confetti and cake anyway? People are going to think it's his Birthday."

"It isn't?"

Barry almost banged his head against the desk. "Of course it isn't!"

"I thought you said that it was his Birthday and that you wanted to apologise to him and make his day special."

"You said that!" Barry barked, growing more exasperated by each second. "I said nothing about today being his Birthday—_oh my God_—"

Just then Mr. Anderson came bustling through the dual doors with his uniform jacket on, carrying a small coffee mug. As he walked he looked confused because nearly everyone in the office was staring _and_ smiling at him, like he won the lottery. Mr. Anderson's hair was gelled back as usual, only (to Barry's horror) there was a slight purplish bruising under both of his eyes inching near the bridge of his nose where a small strip of gaze was taped over the nasal fracture. When his eyes bounced around the room, landing imperiously on the balloons, cake, confetti and cards surrounding his desk he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes bulging out of his head. Taking his surprised look as encouragement many people around the room started clapping and shouting out various well-wishes.

"Hey man," Sam Evans approached Mr. Anderson from the department of Homicide and casually slapped him on the shoulders. "I didn't know it was your Birthday today,"

"It's not," Mr. Anderson squeaked, gripping the coffee mug so tightly his knuckles had gone white. "This is some practical joke."

"Yeah…." Sam replied scratching his head. "If it was your Birthday why do the cards say 'Sorry' on them? I mean shouldn't they say 'Happy Birthday'? Weird…..Oh, well no point in wasting a perfectly good cake," Sam signaled for everyone to gather around and people randomly started singing Happy Birthday to Mr. Anderson which made him blush crimson from head to toe and Barry slink deeper into his chair. Someone had a knife and got paper plates from the staff lounge and began dishing out the cake to anyone who desired a piece, while Mr. Anderson sort of just stood there.

_What a fucking disaster_.

As if things couldn't get any worse Mr. Anderson picked up one of the discarded cards on the desk and began reading it. The minute he finished he whirled around to glare fiercely at Barry, crumpling the card in his hand. Squaring his shoulders he marched over to Berry tossing the crumpled card onto his desk. "Is this some kind of a sick joke?" He seethed, his thick eyebrows mashed together.

"Well, er, not precisely. It depends on what you mean by joke? Because if you think this joke was funny you should see some of my life choices" Barry's attempt at humor failed miserably when Mr. Anderson glowered at him. "Uh—no, of course not I just felt horrible about our last encounter—"

"First you break my nose and now you make me the laughing stock of the entire department! Did someone set you up to this? Is it a group of you guys because if it is I swear to _God_—"

"No Blaine—er, Mr. Anderson listen things may have gotten out of hand when I asked my friend to help apologise it's actually a really funny story," Barry fumbled trying to lighten to situation but that just seem to infuriate him more. "Well, not funny per say but—"

"So it's a practical joke? I knew it. Pick on the new kid right? Just because he doesn't know his way around the city yet, you guys are a piece of work do you know that? Well, fuck you. Don't come around me, don't look at me just stay the hell away from me!"

Barry felt whatever chances he had left of apologising slipping through his fingers. The aching feeling in his chest intensified and before he knew it he jumped out of the chair grabbing Blaine's wrist before he could turn away from him. "It's not a practical joke!" He nearly shouted. "Yesterday was an _epic_ disaster and I just wanted to apologise for breaking your nose _and_ giving you two black eyes. Everything just went wrong but I promise it wasn't meant to be malicious. I—_ugh_—Christ I like you so fucking much and I want—all I've _ever _wanted was to ask you out on a date!"

Mr. Anderson stares back at him completely awestruck the wrist in Barry's hand went slack before he released it. "So….all of this was for a _date_?" He his voice laced with skepticism.

"Pathetic I know," Barry sighs dejectedly.

"Oh…so what are you like stalking me now?"

"Stalking is such a harsh word I prefer the intense research of an individual," Barry replied, then started back tracking quickly taking in the appalled expression on Blaine's face. "I'll leave you alone…..if you want but I just wanted you to know that I didn't mean to embarrass you or cause you any kind of discomfort in your position here."

Mr. Anderson nods slowly processing the information. "Well, I can't say that I've ever been pursued with such…..er, vigor before…." He rubbed the back of his neck blushing. "Uh, thank you I am flattered,"

"Well you know what they say happiness is like a unicorn. It doesn't exist unless you're on drugs," Barry chuckled heartily at his own joke but quickly stopped when Mr. Anderson gazed at him strangely. "Yeah, I have no idea why I said that—sorry I should just put my foot in my mouth,"

A small smile appeared on Mr. Anderson's face and he ducked his head. "You—_uh_, clearly don't ask people out a lot,"

Unsure of what to say Barry shoved his hands into his pocket resisting the urge to rock back and forth on his heels. This conversation was just so excruciatingly awkward and he was just adding fuel to the fire. It's hard to describe exactly what Barry is feeling at the moment because he humiliated his crush again, then in a burst of adrenaline belted out his feelings like some shitty rom-com movie. _God, he should just shoot himself in the face already_. Mr. Anderson looks bashful, staring at his shoes and biting his lower lip.

Barry is itching to close the distance between them.

The silence drags on then Mr. Anderson twiddles his thumbs, looking really uncomfortable before opening his mouth. "I think…" He trails off searching for the right words before finally sucking in a deep breath and forcing them out.

"I think it's only fair for you to know that…I'm not allowed to date."

***8***


End file.
